Till Death
by shattered petal
Summary: For him, she will burn. Scatter into ash. -HitsuMatsu


**author's note**: Yet another metaphorical HitsuMatsu piece, with a bit of a twist. Apologies if this isn't your thing; just something I wrote on a whim. I hope you enjoy!

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**Title**: 'Till Death  
**Genres**: Romance/Angst  
**Rating**: T  
**Couple**: HitsuMatsu

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Nothing graces his flesh more than the heat. And yet, while he stands there, uncertain, worried, questioning himself _again_, his feet are buried in snow. Flakes of ice come down to greet him, and his suit is an exact reflection of the earth's whiteness. A beautiful purity which cloaks his back, and he is a lord, but, ironically, this lord of the heavens is finally silenced forever.

The vows have been whispered.  
Suddenly, he is a man possessed, a devil whose heart has been warmed; he has been welcomed into a universe of love and perfection. He is an opposite, he is _ice_, the demon of winter, and he is unbeatable, a broken, tragic, damaged Soul ready for war and blood. To lick the scars of his prey, taste their death and smell his gorgeous, disgusting victory.

Angels sing.  
_Relieved_.

There is a river which flows before him, and the water is silent, and his reflection ripples. Shatters, almost. When he looks at his face, the wounds which cover his cheeks, his bright, green eyes, he doesn't recognise himself. Leaning over, his fingertips touch the surface, and he gasps, watches his reflection tremble, and then vanish completely. The King of Death no longer possesses a reflection, no longer a Heart or a Soul. For so long, he has fought on the battlefield, allowed the ice to corrupt his mind. There is no life left in him.

Nothing frightens him more than this twisted irony.

Yet all falls into place, a brilliance he hasn't mastered. But he doesn't need to. He flinches a little, allows her scolding hand to brush across his cheek, and he sighs, closes his eyes and wishes she'll touch him a little more. When he reaches up to claim her hand in his, he can _hear_ the blade clatter to the ground. He can _hear_ his own surrender, he can _hear_ life. And she smiles at him, and it's a smile which brings so much joy to his pitiful self that he cries. He is silent, he has forever been a silent beast, but tears trickle down his cheeks, and he smiles too. _Tries_ to smile, because he has never smiled for love, never smiled out of wonderful happiness.

Of complete serenity.

Like he, she is dressed in white, but it is not a symbol of her purity. As far as they are both concerned, she was _never_ pure. Dirt lingers in her blood, but she shines, and fights against the monsters which lurk beneath their feet. She is dressed in white, because she is his ghost, in every aspect, a bright, wondrous shadow of so many mysteries and puzzles. She is and always will be his greatest challenge; a riddle he'll never solve.  
And, yet, he solved her the moment they met.

Her hair is a great contrast to the dress. Her hair is the fire, burning and bright, powerful, and _deadly_. Her eyes hold a strange tease, but she is sincere, so sincere in this very moment he can feel his knees wobble from shock. Always, he is completely lost in her irises, for they resemble the heavens above which he rules. She is his wings, and she'll help him reach the very top, reach the highest cloud where the Gods stand and rule.  
Of course, even the warmest of angels cannot withstand the heat of the sun.

For him, she will _burn_.  
Scatter into ash.

They hold each other, and his fingers are tight in her hair, and when they kiss he forgets how to breathe. She offers a gift to him which he _still_ cannot fathom. In many ways, he is still so _young_, so innocent and unsure. He needs her, he looks at her _still_, because, even though they call him the young prodigy, that does not mean he is skilled with his emotions.

He requires her gentle hands to tame him.  
Always.

Their marriage was not planned.  
Fate has tied the knot, though, and all it takes is a little _snip_ for everything to become _undone_.

So simple.  
_Too simple_.

Tōshirō's vows were spoken, but only she speaks the truth. Only _she_ will have to say the truth, be honest, and open her heart to him completely. Their love is not mutual. She feels for him like she has felt for another, it is a love which burns his very Soul, and it is passionate and fierce. She loves him, and that is final. There are no complications; she has fallen for him, and the ring wrapped around her fourth finger is proof of her mistake.

Yet his love is entirely different.  
His love is ugly, and sick. His love is only for her, and has only _ever_been for her. There is not another woman or man who'll catch his eye. There never has been. Fate _hates_him, mocks his emotions and plays with him. He is a chess piece, a knight the players are _desperate_ to be rid off. He shall try and dodge the hand of power, but even he isn't that fast.  
His love is his entirety. When he makes love to her, his body is bare and his mind is naked. When he kisses her, his heart empties its darkness and despair. When his vows were whispered, they were vows which were whispered many years ago.

Once the sword is in hand, she is no longer his love, no longer his partner, no longer his friend. No longer his wife.  
She is _just_ a soldier. A toy in the game.  
Waiting to die.

Both of her hands hold his face, cradle him, and, as always, as it has been for decades, hundreds of years, they require no words. Nothing is said. Their marriage is done, sealed, their two witnesses have dispersed, and they are alone.  
Another secret is hidden between them.

Snow dances around their forms, and falls into her hair. He reaches over to flick a flake off the tip of her nose, and she giggles. It's a fun giggle, one of excitement and joy. But she is nervous, and he can tell. It is clear how nervous and uncertain she is too, because they both know what has happened has destroyed everything. They have stepped past the line, they have done the one foolish mistake a Captain and Vice-Captain have promised to never do.

_Surrender_.

They have bowed, and surrendered to the Heart.

A kiss. A promise to follow him, even when the Blade cuts through her flesh.

When he looks at the surface of the water, watches the river flow, he sees his reflection again. It has returned to him, and she stands and looks beside him.  
Finally, he is able to recognise himself.  
Finally, his reflection is seen, because she is there.

The water doesn't tremble.  
It is stable.

Dressed in white, they are soldiers of peace.  
Dressed in white, they hold the other's hand, and run.  
Dressed in white, they step ever closer to death.

Dressed in white, he can feel her slipping away.

_Second by second_.

Waits for her death, to part them.


End file.
